When the Underdog Rises: Ash's Awakening

Isis Beutler

Fantasy | Completed

5.0

Comment(s)

496

View

Chapters

The last thing I saw was Maverick' s powerful hooves, descending on me. I was back, gasping, the thick scent of magnolias filling my lungs at the Claiming Ceremony – the day my life fell apart. Maverick, the champion I had raised from a foal, trotted straight to Charlotte, nuzzling her hand in a blatant act of public rejection. My father, Richard, placed a hand on my shoulder, his grip tight, announcing, "Charlotte has a special connection. You're the older sister, let her have him. It' s for the good of the family's reputation." The jockey I' d helped sneered, "A champion horse needs a champion rider." Charlotte's friends chimed in with fake sympathy, insisting I was never strong enough, that I would have held him back. The humiliation was a physical weight, but this time, in my second chance, I felt only a cold resolve. My father pushed, trying to salvage his scheme, offering me the sickly, seemingly worthless colt, Ash, in exchange. Everyone pitied the broken girl being cast aside, agreeing I was walking away empty-handed. But kneeling beside Ash, I felt a faint, familiar warmth, a deep connection confirming what I suspected: he was my mother' s true legacy, the horse she had left for me. Charlotte, arrogant in her victory, declared, "Let' s perform the bonding ritual now, so everyone can see the true bond between a rider and her horse." I stood, a slow smile spreading across my face. "I agree."

Family Betrayal Rebirth/Reborn Kickass Heroine Personal growth

Chapter 9

01-06 20:31

Introduction

The last thing I saw was Maverick' s powerful hooves, descending on me.

I was back, gasping, the thick scent of magnolias filling my lungs at the Claiming Ceremony – the day my life fell apart.

Maverick, the champion I had raised from a foal, trotted straight to Charlotte, nuzzling her hand in a blatant act of public rejection.

My father, Richard, placed a hand on my shoulder, his grip tight, announcing, "Charlotte has a special connection. You're the older sister, let her have him. It' s for the good of the family's reputation."

The jockey I' d helped sneered, "A champion horse needs a champion rider."

Charlotte's friends chimed in with fake sympathy, insisting I was never strong enough, that I would have held him back.

The humiliation was a physical weight, but this time, in my second chance, I felt only a cold resolve.

My father pushed, trying to salvage his scheme, offering me the sickly, seemingly worthless colt, Ash, in exchange.

Everyone pitied the broken girl being cast aside, agreeing I was walking away empty-handed.

But kneeling beside Ash, I felt a faint, familiar warmth, a deep connection confirming what I suspected: he was my mother' s true legacy, the horse she had left for me.

Charlotte, arrogant in her victory, declared, "Let' s perform the bonding ritual now, so everyone can see the true bond between a rider and her horse."

I stood, a slow smile spreading across my face.

"I agree."